


Are you flexible anywhere?

by MyrddinDerwydd



Series: Misc Mass Effect Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Awkward Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec (Mass Effect), F/M, First Contact, Fluff and Smut, POV Garrus Vakarian, Porn With Plot, Pre-Mass Effect 1, Pre-Relationship, Sexy Yoga, Shakarian - Freeform, Smut, The Citadel, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: Set a year before the events of Mass Effect 1, Detective Vakarian bungles an assignment and is instructed to attend a 'Community Awareness' class. A 'yoh-gah' class. He has no clue what yoga is, but he somehow ends up partnered with an Alliance soldier named Shepard who's on her first Citadel posting. Things get far more awkward, competitive, and a whole lot hotter than he would have ever expected. All in all - he decides it was definitely a successful community awareness experience.Somehow a Shakarian yoga AU came up in a discussion on the Calibrations discord and some enthusiastic people were surveyed for ideas to throw into it. Thanks for the encouragement y'all!
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Misc Mass Effect Prompt Fills [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668511
Comments: 50
Kudos: 149





	1. An awkward start

**Author's Note:**

> _cantica_ is my own term for the highly expressive turian subvocals that convey their emotions. The word is latin for song.
> 
> Seriously NSFW chapters are marked with an *

Executor Pallin’s clipped words and irritated subvocals echoed in Garrus’s mind as he stripped out of his C-sec armor. The assignment was galling but probably deserved after the debacle of tackling that asari companion who was simply trying to seduce a woman in the Citadel gardens. ‘Community Awareness’ indeed… he didn’t even know what ‘yoh-gah’ was, and he was supposed to be at the class in 20 minutes. Garrus chuffed a laugh, disbelief rippling sourly through his _cantica._

“Computer, extranet search for ‘yoga class, asari.’ ” Garrus called to the personal computer in his apartment. He pulled on a loose shirt as the response began.

“Yoga. A physical and spiritual practice that hybridizes similar human and asari practices focusing on flexibility, strength, and balancing both body and mind. Classes vary widely, but consist of guided postures in a sequence determined by the style and instructor.” The artificial voice paused. “Would you like a schedule of upcoming classes near your location?” 

“No,” Garrus sighed, mandibles tight in exasperation. “I already have a stars-cursed class on my schedule.” He cinched the shirt’s buckles over his high-waisted pants and headed out to the community center in this section of Tayseri Ward. 

The asari receptionist glanced over his IDent info on her screen with a smile that still looked disturbingly small to his mind. _No teeth. No mandibles. Just tiny, fleshy mouths. That’s what dad gets for keeping me on Palaven for so long, everything is still alien._

“Vakarian, what a great name!” The asari said cheerily. It was clearly false cheer, to his investigator’s ear. “I see this is your first time here. The lockers and changing room are down the hallway to my right, the classrooms are at the end.” She waved a bare, maroon arm. “The basics class is in the largest room, first door.” 

He murmured a polite “Thanks” that didn’t carry into his _cantica_ , heading toward the lockers. 

“Oh, sir?” 

Garrus snaked a look back over one shoulder, pausing in perfect balance. 

“Two more things. Leave your sidearm in the lockers - each one has an omni-key. And you’ll probably be the only turian in the class.” The asari sounded slightly apologetic, but he wasn’t sure. 

He breathed a fraction deeper, feeling the heavy pistol press into his torso where it was concealed under his left arm. “How did you spot my weapon?” Surprise didn’t ripple into his subvocals, but only because he had trained not to reveal it.

The asari replied without missing a beat. “Because you sent me your ID, Detective, and because I was a Huntress for 270-odd years.” The smile didn’t waver, and his already battered pride sunk silently into the patterned tiles on the floor. 

Nodding sharply, he continued down the hallway and berated himself. _So you’re a mush-brained rookie now, Vakarian? I am never coming back here again. Ever._

When he finally opened the classroom, weapon and holster stashed in the locker, more than thirty other people were scattered around with various colored mats and bottles of water. Every eye that turned on him was in an unplated face. The smooth tentacles of a hanar swayed on the far side of the room, the deep green scales of one short, young drell at the back, but everyone else was a smooth-skinned asari or human. 

A petite human with dark brown skin and very short black hair strolled toward him as he groaned inwardly. The receptionist had not exaggerated on the species composition of the class. 

“This should work for you,” they said quietly, handing him a rolled black mat. Were they an assistant of some type? He assumed so. Garrus took the roll wordlessly, eyes still searching the room for anything familiar. A tight knot of people in one section of the room were muscled in a way that suggested soldier, as was one flame-haired human near the middle of the room, but that was as ordinary as he saw.

Garrus startled, a small hand waving in front of his face. “We’ll be starting soon, so settle your mat where ever you can find a spot.” Something in the way they and several others nearby laughed said they were probably repeating themselves. He was fairly certain they were a male human since they weren’t wearing a tunic, but he towered over them and everyone in the room except the hanar.

The room was remarkably organized, he realized as the assistant strode toward the door. There were few gaps between the mats the participants sat (or hovered) on, and only one spot that seemed large enough for him. 

“Over here new guy,” the flame-haired woman called out, shifting her mat to make room for him. 

Garrus strode toward her as inconspicuously as possible, mandibles clamped against his jaw. He rolled out the heavy rubberized mat that was clearly made for a turian’s height. It was nearly a meter longer than the others. He stood stiffly on the mat, feeling conspicuous. 

“Shepard.” The woman gestured toward herself from a convoluted seat on her mat beside his. _How is she doing that?? Legs shouldn’t fit in that small of a space._ “And you are?” 

“Vakarian.” His response was terse and quiet. 

“Welcome everyone! Tonight’s theme is the rising moon, and we will channel that energy to bring us together.” The asari from the desk strode through the door with the petite assistant, voice powering through the room. “I am matron Elarien, and in this room you are all my children.” Quiet laughter and greetings in myriad tongues followed her statement. _She’s the instructor. Great._

Everyone moved to the center of their mats, mirroring the asari now surveying them from the front of the room. Garrus felt her eyes land on him and stiffened further. 

“Remember, your bare feet, hands, and tentacles connect you to the ground and stretch your spirit to the skies. Begin by standing tall, centering yourself on your mat with 10 steady breaths.” The matron’s eyes flicked pointedly down to his feet. _Great. No one mentioned going bare-taloned and scaring a room full of humans was part of this ‘community awareness’ yoga._

Suppressing an embarrassed, annoyed whine from flooding his _cantica_ , Garrus quickly stripped off his gloves and boots. 

“And eight in, a smooth breath from your roots. Hold for two, three, four.” The matron paced their breaths with soothing words. 

Garrus copied the people around him, flexing his long fingers, hands spread open and talons pressing self-consciously into the rubber mat. 

“And out with strength, clearing your body. Two more breaths…” 

He tried to breathe out through tightly clamped mandibles and failed miserably. _This is going to be worse than C-Sec drills._


	2. A Fumbling Flow

Ten minutes later, Garrus was staring at the Shepard woman’s legs as he tried to touch the floor beside his left foot with his hands. Their right legs were stretched out behind them, toes and talons pressed into the opposite side of the mat. The muscles of her leg flexed from narrow ankle up to her rear, but Shepard didn’t wobble. He wobbled again, forearm resting on his thigh, fingertips barely brushing the floor. _Fifty more minutes. I’d rather be in a blasted sparring ring._ He flexed his right ankle again, bending and re-straightening his leg.

The assistant appeared at Garrus’s shoulder, talking quietly as he stretched out fluidly between Garrus and the next person. “Drop your back knee to the ground so you can square your hips.” He gestured to twisting his left hip toward the mat. “Keep your elbow on your thigh, that is good. Remember to breathe!” Garrus tried to match the assistant’s shift with only moderate success. They both held the position for a moment longer, then he ghosted smoothly away as the matron guided them on. 

Now he was doing floor pushes… but slowly. Garrus rolled his head inside his cowl, flexing his neck to work out some of the tension as he held his weight on his hands and feet. His knees nearly brushed the mat, flexing deeper than Shepard’s or the asari matron’s, but that was normal. _At least I accomplished something in this ‘yoga’ class._

“Now lift your chest and press into the floor. Ground your hips like a lover’s kiss and look to the sky.” _Did she just say…_ “Roll your shoulders back,” the matron continued, “lengthening your back into an easy arch. Hold here for three-” 

_Whumph._ His feet slid out from under him and Garrus crashed to the ground keel first. He stared at Shepard's legs in front of him, blazing red pants snug over her thighs, absurdly small toes less than a meter from his face. _How is she doing that? Is that normal for humans?_ He rose quickly back to the floor press and tried to roll his shoulders and hips like hers again. He bent marginally farther this time, fringe brushing the back of his cowl.

“Now for a deeper stretch.” _Oh great. This wasn’t challenging enough._ “Clasp your hands behind your back in a bind and reach toward your heels. Keep your core tight, your neck long. Let your hands remain on the floor if that is better for you.” 

Shepard hadn’t hesitated to move into the deeper stretch, shoulder blades rolling sharply under muscles he could clearly see flexing under her skin. The sleeveless black tunic was a sharp contrast against the tan of her skin and the blazing red of her hair, but it was her form that was distracting. _Damn, her back is flexible._ Shepard raised her hands smoothly up from where they were clasped on her rear. Her hips even rose off the mat as her whole body curved backward. _Huh. I don’t think that’s even possible for a turian._

“Good, now relax to the mat and flow through the archway with me for four breaths.” The matron’s voice brought him back to the present and he fumbled his way into the wrist murdering pose with his ass up in the air. He couldn’t see Shepard like this, but many of the other humans and asari around him flexed their legs and hips as if working out kinks in a hydraulics line. It looked far different from the rigid triangle of his own body. 

They stretched on their feet for a few blessed minutes, with more leaning and reaching hands to the sky. He quickly decided to ignore any instructions involving his hands behind his back, simply clasping them together in an easy resting position. Besides, he could watch the unimaginable stretching of the human’s body instead. _Damn, I can certainly appreciate how different they are for a start. It’s not like I haven’t been trained on their weak points. Their vulnerabilities. Knowing how to dislocate their shoulder in an instant is different than seeing them curve those shoulders into impossible shapes on their own._

The moves were starting to come at a faster pace, the humans and asari around him sweating, moisture beading on the varied hues of their skin. They stretched out their legs into a stride on the mat again, stances with names like “Warrior’s sword” and “Warrior’s surrender” that bore only a vague similarity to any fight he had ever seen. He was still wearing a long-sleeved tunic, normal civilian clothes, and he was starting to hate it more than usual. It was hot, and every time he raised his arms it bunched against his cowl. _Night, if this was a Hierarchy sparring ring I never would have kept this on. Half of the humans aren’t wearing tunics either, and the rest barely are._

Garrus huffed in exasperation, _cantica_ flaring with the first bit of emotion he’d shown since the class began. He unbuckled the waist of his tunic as they settled into another ‘Warrior’ in the opposite direction, facing toward an asari with deep blue skin with a maroon crest. He pulled the tunic over his head between breaths, roughly folding it and dropping it beside the mat. 

“Reach up, stepping to the top of your mat.” The matron’s voice was somehow a gentle but implaccable command every time. “Ground your right foot, spreading wide any toes that you have. Slowly shift all of your weight to this foot, letting your left foot float light behind you.”

“Uhh…” Garrus breathed out, suddenly finding himself face to face with the Shepard woman. One of them was at the wrong end of the mat. A shining chain dangled metal tags from her neck, confirming his initial assessment of ‘soldier.’ _Shit._ Her eyes flashed hard for a moment. Shoulders tensed, hands twitched, combat reflexes for both of them being locked down hard. 

“It’s okay.” The words were tight but calm and quiet. Shepard leaned forward as they had been instructed, left foot rising behind herself, arms spread wide. “You’re just at the wrong edge.” She held his eyes, flicking a hand in a quick ‘come on’ gesture. 

Slowly, he leaned forward into the ‘Airship,’ upper body falling forward as he stretched his leg backward. He was only a few hands away from Shepard, who was still holding his eyes. She swayed slowly as he flailed his leg, wobbling wildly for a moment. 

“Breath deeply into your feet.” The matron’s voice sounded from just behind him and to the right, much closer than usual. “Stretch into the ground. Reach deep into yourself and fly.” 

He nearly flew forward into Shepard. His cowl quickly overbalanced his leg and he waved his arms like a drowning bird. _Crap. No no no!_

Hands grabbed his, and he held on convulsively. He had a lifeline. Shepard pushed back, bracing against his fall, pulling him back up despite her shorter stature. Their hands fumbled together, both swaying and wobbling for a moment, too many fingers, talons everywhere---and then they were fine. They were both breathing hard, she was sweating, and he undoubtedly still looked like panic, but they were standing, balanced together. 

There was also a hand on his lower leg, just above the joint. Even blunted talons would have hurt if he had accidentally kicked someone. The matron let go after a moment, never saying a word. 

“Breathe,” the matron continued. “Stretch through your feet. Focus on the core of your body, not your chest.” Her emphasis on the last seemed aimed directly at him, and he huffed out his next breath. 

_Should I say something to the Shepard woman? Apologize? Thank her? Spirits, this is mortifying._ Neither of them spoke, just watched each other, held in a tense but oddly easy silence. 

Garrus could read the back of her ID tags now... ‘N7’ was stamped in bold black characters. _Huh. Great. At least I embarrassed myself, my clan, and my species in front of a high ranking Alliance soldier. She might actually report it to Pallin, unlike literally anyone else. This just keeps getting better._

“Let us all take a moment to acknowledge that not everything can be accomplished alone.” The asari left everyone else balancing on their own for two more breaths. “Slowly raise your chest, keeping your core firm as you come to stand.” 

Garrus’s relief at moving on from his embarrassment was short-lived. He had barely begun stepping away from Shepard when the asari matron’s hand on his back stopped him. 

“For the balance on the other side, choose a partner nearby and move your mat to face theirs, as you see here.” Matron Elarien gestured gracefully at Shepard and himself. “Can you find a way to balance and fly with each other?” 

Garrus sighed, mandibles flaring as he closed his eyes. Quiet chats sprang up between people across the room as the matron returned to the front of the room. Shepard was still there when he opened his eyes again. Sadly, the yoga room had not disappeared either. _Why is she staring at me?_ She definitely was, eyes roaming over his bare chest and shoulders. Garrus straightened, suddenly self conscious of scrutiny that wasn’t for his idiotic fumbling. _Hmm. She looks more interested than horrified. Everyone says humans think turians are ‘angry wolf-toothed predators’._

“I’ll do my best not to fall on you again,” Garrus spoke quietly, hoping the human could hear him. They had a short moment alone as people moved mats and found partners. _‘Jane Shepard’ is what the tag says. Must be her name. Wonder what it sounds like._ Garrus caught the details just before Shepard tucked the dangling ID tags into her collar with an automatic gesture. 

“If you do, at least I’ll have an interesting view as we go down,” Shepard quipped, stretching both arms overhead. 

“Huh.” Garrus stalled. _What was ‘interesting’ supposed to mean here? It almost seems like she is..._

“Talk with each other quietly as needed, but focus on your breath. Breathe deeply, grounding yourself through your left foot.” Matron Elarien called them back to task as much as any training sergeant. 

The two of them managed to move through several easy paired stances, his larger taloned hands pressed carefully against the human’s small, narrow-fingered ones. _Small, but strong._ The asari matron apparently had a brutal streak though, as her next instructions left him tight-mandibled and sending a very cautious look toward the flame-haired woman barely topping his shoulder.

“Move with intention and strength. Only raise your legs when - and if - you are confident of where you are.” Matron Elarien was demonstrating, her assistant smoothly standing upside down on their forearms while she stabilized his legs.

Shepard was looking at him with her head tilted to the side. _Why do I think of her as a person so easily when I can count only a hand of other humans that I even know on sight?_ There was no way that head tilt was the gesture of invitation it would have been on a turian, but her strong, sweaty neck was still intriguing. 

“You’ve never done this before.” It was a statement, not a question. “I’ll go first.” Shepard knelt on the mat facing toward him, searching his eyes for a moment before placing her head and clasped forearms on the mat. Her hair fell to the floor, baring the back of her neck. He could see the shallow ripple of her vulnerable spine, running up her back between the muscles flexing under her shirt. 

Garrus shivered, chords of discomfort and fascination flaring into his _cantica._ _At least the drell is the only one with half a chance of hearing turian subvocals…_ unusual thoughts kept flaring into his head tonight. He looked down at the woman in front of him, actively walling off anti-human combat training that the Hierarchy definitely did NOT reveal to the Alliance. Her feet were bouncing just off the mat, ridiculously small toes curled against her feet in a way that his never could. 

All he could do was wait, staring down at the curves of Shepard’s rear and legs. If he stepped any closer, he’d risk stepping on her fragile-looking hair. He was entranced by the sharp, narrow line of her ankles, slowly moving toward him. _Such a contrast with the rest of her legs. I wonder what they feel like._ Several other people were upside down now, legs in their partners’ hands. She had one leg farther up than the other, stalled with one foot just within his considerable reach. Shepard growled under her breath, legs wobbling as she tried to straighten her back. 

Garrus snaked a hand to her flailing ankle, fingers wrapping around it nearly halfway again. _It feels like steel cables. Thin. Not fragile, strong._ He pulled her leg toward him, straight up from her hips. Shepard huffed out what he thought was a laugh as she swung her other leg smoothly up into his grip. _Human feet are very odd._

She shifted her weight, hips and thighs long curves swaying directly under his gaze. _Is it rude to stare at her? Possibly. Probably._ He couldn’t help himself, oddly appreciative of her strong, very un-turian curves. _Asari are built the same, you fledgling pyjack. So are quarians and drell._ He’d never ogled an asari with more than professional interest in his life.

“If you have your partner’s legs, give them a gentle lift so that they can feel the fullness of their stretch.” Garrus followed the matron’s instructions without much thought, easily lifting Shepard’s weight. 

“Gaahh!” Shepard yelped, making heads turn and bodies wobble throughout the room. Garrus tensed and tried to look over her feet to see her face and find out what was wrong. She was looking up at him with the most ridiculous expression he’d ever seen on a human, and he had no idea what it meant. 

“That is not what…” the matron trailed off into a genuine laugh. More laughter tittered throughout the room, especially from those standing upright who could see what he had done. “Only a human and a turian would manage to surprise me in my own studio.” 

Garrus alternated staring at the human and the asari, now on Shepard’s mat with a hand on one hip. “Was I not supposed to pick her up? She’s barely half my weight.” He flexed his shoulders, lifting her farther in emphasis, ankles above his shoulders. Shepard shifted suddenly in his grip and he instinctively buckled his elbows, pulling her body against his own to avoid dropping her. 

The matron and Garrus both looked down at the now grinning woman. “Really Vakarian? Clumsy all night and then you pull this out like a stud?” Shepard laced her hands behind her head and bent at the waist, doing several curl-ups as she dangled by her ankles. 

“I was definitely not supposed to pick you up.” Garrus caught Shepard’s mood, mandibles flaring into a toothy grin of his own as the matron stalked back to the front of the room muttering something about humans and turians. Shepard curled up several more times, to appreciative cheers from around the room. _That is actually very...appealing. Damn._ Her thinly clothed legs pressed the full length of his chest and stomach. Her rear was against his hips, rhythmically tensing muscles clearly felt through the lightly padded waist of his pants. 

The plates edging his slit shifted, a low note of lust flaring into his _cantica_. He faltered, shifting in sudden uncertainly at the unfamiliar thoughts. _Strong, attractive, and apparently with a good sense of humor. Crap… I think Shepard’s sexy._ Shepard paused, reaching one hand up to grab onto his arm. He loosed her ankles uncertainly, neck flushing darkly in both embarrassment and unexpected desire. 

“Your turn, big guy, before the matron chases us out.” Shepard nodded at his mat. “Just don’t expect me to pick you up.” 

Garrus chuffed a self-conscious laugh. “You don’t have the reach,” he murmured as the cheers and laughter faded to the asari’s instructions again.

“Nah, but I certainly have you beat on flexibility.” Shepard winked one eye closed with another grin as he knelt on the mat in front of her. _Wait, I know that one. A shared secret, something about a promise of more. Flirtatious? Was Shepard flirting with him?_ Hmm. He really wasn't in a great place to focus on trying to stand upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Yes, it's often inappropriate to stare at someone in a yoga class, especially to the point of making them uncomfortable. Sure, sometimes it happens, and if you're not being a leering creeper or harassing them it's not really a problem. Genuine admiration of someone's body isn't inherently a bad thing! Hopefully, it's clear in this short fic that there's mutual appreciation and interest - not uncomfortable creeper behaviour.


	3. A Bit of Back and Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The yoga class is finally over, but it seems like these two are just getting started!

“Are turians flexible anywhere?” Shepard murmured at Garrus from her mat. 

They were both seated, legs extended toward each other. Shepard’s flame-colored hair dangled in a chaotic tail beside her face, framed in her hands as she rested elbows on the mat. All of this was between her wide-spread legs, somehow.  _ Why can their legs do that?  _

“Does my tongue count?” Garrus muttered in reply. His own legs were still pointed straight in her direction, taloned feet barely spread wider than his shoulders. 

“Come on big guy, don’t give me too many ideas. We still have 10 minutes of class left.” Shepard’s grin was louder than her voice. 

“10 more minutes of torture.” He reached toward his feet again, stretching a finger’s width farther. 

“Rise up on a breath, then align your feet with your partner’s between your mats.” Matron Elarien called out, still just as calm and commanding as when she dressed him down about his pistol an hour before. “Reach your hands forward, bending from the hips. Keep your back straight, the muscles of your core engaged.” 

Shepard’s feet were shorter and narrower than his, and her body was folded in half to hover her hands in the space between their feet. His own hands were just below his knees, legs longer than hers, both literally, and by proportion to the rest of his body. 

“Come on, Vakarian.” Shepard wriggled her body and somehow reached even farther, tapping the inside edges of his bare feet. “Don’t let a human win on everything tonight.” 

He glared at every line of her obnoxiously flexible body, huffing exasperation into the quiet growl of wounded pride rippling into his  _ cantica. _ Working his shoulders back and forth, rocking his hips slightly, glaring all the while, Garrus stretched just far enough to tap the human’s skinny, wiggling finger tips with his own. 

“There,” Garrus breathed out grumpily with what little air he had. The muscles between his shoulders and waist were tight, upper back aching more with every second. “Urrgh.” He sat up slowly, lying back on the mat.  _ Damn. I could probably do that with practice. Going to pay for it later though...  _

He ignored the human and the matron’s instructions for a long moment, only shifting his body farther onto his own mat when she guided them into what sounded (hopefully) like the end of the session. A few long minutes of breathing, lying semi-comfortably on his side, seemed like a blessed relief after the intense stretching of the last hour. 

Garrus gratefully trailed the other people to the locker room after returning his oversized turian yoga mat.  _ Well, this has certainly been an interesting evening. _ A few of the other people he’d marked out as soldier types - two asari and three humans - were changing into other clothing on the far side of the locker room, trying to cajole the Shepard woman into joining them at a local bar called  _ Starlight Corner _ . 

Garrus secured the strap of his holster across his chest, settling the pistol into it before pulling on his shirt. It was fitted so that the pistol was effectively resting in an easily accessible pocket under his left arm. He felt eyes on his back, catching Shepard watching him when he glanced at the group around her.  _ I’d bet there’s a pistol under that jacket too, even without watching her dress. Not that either of us is particularly helpless without a gun. Well. I assume N7s are as good as we’ve been told.  _

The group of soldiers strolled past, two of the taller women with arms around each others’ backs. Garrus snapped the locker shut, clearing the lock code with his omni-tool. 

“So. C-Sec?” Shepard asked, hands in the pockets of a black leather jacket with a red stripe running down one sleeve, flanked by a white stripe on either side. She had stopped a meter or so away from him, and he appreciated the personal space at the moment. 

“Yes.” There was no reason to conceal the truth.

“No wonder you’re ripped. Good to know I can recognize military-trained turians, as well as humans and asari. ” Her expression was more serious than in the yoga class, but she still seemed at ease. 

“Are there many N7s stationed on the Citadel?” 

Shepard barked a laugh. “No, and sometimes I wish there were. They literally put up holos of us for ads here, especially anywhere with a noticeable human population.”

Garrus nodded, glancing down the hall toward the door.  _ Makes sense. New species wants to show off their best. The Hierarchy does the same in the colonies. _

“You headed out to a bar with your friends?” He followed Shepard as she started down the hallway, relieved to finally be leaving. 

“They wish.” Shepard settled her jacket with what looked like excessive effort. “Every Alliance soldier and half the civilians on the Citadel knows my face. Humans anyway.” 

“I didn’t recognize you.” Garrus nodded sharply to the matron as they passed the desk, and Shepard waved her a lazy salute.  _ Learned my lesson about assumptions for the day with her. Thanks galaxy. _ Shepard continued pacing him as they walked out onto the street through a door wide enough to accommodate a Krogan.  _ Not thinking about a Krogan trying yoga.  _

“Any plans of your own, Vakarian?” 

They stopped on a street corner and Garrus looked down at Shepard, a chord of curiosity warming his  _ cantica. _ The streets here split Tayseri Ward into local small businesses and community areas on one side, housing on the other side, both running the length of the Citadel wing. He rolled one shoulder, containing a wince at the soreness running down his back from the class.  _ Would you have joined her at a bar if she’d been going? _ The thought wandered in unbidden, like many others on this strange evening. 

Shepard was looking up at him, all soldier-straight stance and shockingly flexible curves. 

“Honestly, I’m planning to replenish my stock of  _ Saleffer, _ then gohome and recover from Matron Elarien’s friendly yoga drills.” Garrus crammed enough sarcasm onto the last words that even an elcor would have heard it.

“I see. Think I’ll pick up some beer, I’m off duty tomorrow. Does the shop you use carry levo drinks too?” 

Garrus nodded and they headed one street over and outward along the wing, in the same direction as his apartment. The keeper behind the counter of “Balia’s Bebis” had a grand time explaining to Shepard what  _ Saleffer  _ was when Garrus failed spectacularly. 

“Look, you’ll have to see it sometime honey, trust me. Just don’t drink it!” The asari admonished with a grin. “It’s not ryncol, but it’s definitely not made for you and me.” 

They paused again out on the street with their drinks, his own a bundle of wide-mouthed bottles on a silicone cord, hers a pseudo-box of short cans that had been temp welded together. 

“You coming with me, Shepard?”  _ You are a few stars short of a nebula, Vakarian. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough--- _

“Sure. I was hoping you’d ask.” Shepard gestured left and right along the street, as if for directions. “Not entirely sure why, but I think I like you, Vakarian.” She laughed, presumably at the slack-mandibled look on his face.  _ Huh. That didn’t end horribly. _

They made it back to his apartment with a minimum of small talk, Shepard keeping pace with his longer strides without much apparent effort. Garrus finally confessed on the elevator up--- “I’m not sure when I last had any visitors, and the number of human apartments I’ve seen is pretty limited. No idea what you’re expecting, honestly.”

Shepard shrugged, a non-turian gesture that was nonetheless ubiquitous among his coworkers in C-Sec. “I’ve been on the Citadel less than a month, Vakarian. I’ve never seen a turian’s home before.” She shrugged again, eyes flicking up to him briefly. “Didn’t plan to today, but sometimes you just roll with the turbulence and see where it goes.”

Somehow, that set Garrus at ease.  _ It’s not so different for her.  _

Garrus’s apartment was never disorganized, so his spontaneous guest roaming about didn’t bother him in the least until she noticed his workbench. His spare visor and helmet hung above it on the wall. The top was scattered with tools, oils, mods, and a disassembled Krysae prototype he had acquired recently. He tensed as Shepard instantly strode toward it. 

“Don’t. Move. Anything.” Garrus snapped from the edge of the living area, forgetting he had barely known her an hour, forgetting she was an N7. No one touched his gear. 

“I won’t.” Shepard glanced back over her shoulder from where she’d crouched to desk height, meeting his eyes with an assessing look before continuing to peer at the rifle. “That’s Hierarchy military tech though, not C-Sec, and I’d bet money on that.” 

“Oh you would?”  _ Maybe inviting an Alliance N7 to your apartment was a terrible idea as well as a strange one.  _ “Too bad that’s a bet I can’t settle for you.” It  _ was _ military tech, of course. He had the skills and security clearance to be one of their premier prototype testers, at least for the type of long-range rifle he favored. 

Garrus snapped a tablet off from under the lid of his drink with a talon as Shepard came over, thankfully leaving his workbench behind. “I honestly don’t know why people think  _ Saleffer _ is so strange.” He snapped the tablet in two and dropped it into the mouth of the bottle, walking to the couch with it.

“I’m no expert,” Shepard began, staring at the bottle as she opened her own can, “But it could be because your drink is smoking. Violently.”

“Sure.” Garrus tucked the bottle into his mouth and tipped back a quick sip. It was still too hot, but damn it was good. “Makes it hot and bubbly.” Smoky steam continued to pour out of the bottle when he sat it down on the small table nearby. A small tendril slipped between his mandibles before fading away. 

Shepard joined him on the couch, eventually leaning sideways into the deep arch of the backrest, sitting sideways with her legs curled bizarrely underneath her once Garrus told her it was fine to put her feet on the couch. 

The next hour flew by in a memorable haze of trading questions and requests he never would have thought of before tonight.  _ Because these are questions you don’t ask of a random coworker or person you meet on the street, _ a tiny voice of turian propriety reminded him at some point. He acknowledged it and took another drink of  _ Saleffer _ , watching Shepard very actively exploring his other hand with both of her own. The small talons - nails - on her hands weren’t worth the name, but she just shrugged when he told her so. 

“Doesn’t matter if they can’t tear into your hide, they can break human skin if you try hard and they’re any longer than mine.” Her first name was pronounced ‘Jain,’ the Alliance called soldiers by family names too, she actually enjoyed yoga quite a lot, and her beer smelled odd to him. His was ‘Gare-ruhs,’ he missed playing music during skirmishes, was a bit taller than average, and did not brush his teeth. 

“No! What do I need a brush for?” Garrus told an amused Shepard. “I chew on a cleaning tablet maybe once a week unless some bit of food is stuck in my teeth.” 

“You’re kidding. Show me?” Shepard pulled a tie out of her hair just then, running her fingers through it until it draped more evenly around her face. It almost distracted him from her question entirely.

“What? Uhh, no. No, I am definitely not showing you how I clean my teeth. You people are terrified of us already.” 

“Do I look terrified of you?” Shepard countered. 

“No.” Garrus sighed,  _ cantica _ rumbling with a bizarre mix of emotions that even a human could probably hear.  _ Just ask. You’re not going to stop thinking about it.  _ “But you’re also the only human I’ve ever talked to like this. And can I please touch your hair.” He was staring at her intently, and she paused in the middle of moving the long red strands over her shoulder, startled. 

“You want to---” Shepard laughed and moved closer to him on the couch. “Here. I never thought about how strange our hair probably is to you.” She bundled her flame-colored hair over her left shoulder and waved the ends at him before dropping it all to her bare shoulder. She’d stripped off her jacket and gun half an hour ago, and they lay on the table at the other end of the couch.

Garrus gently scooped her hair into his hand, eyeing her cautiously. The strands of her hair were an intense red-orange that was a stark contrast to her pale, pink-tan skin, and with his own slate-grey plates and brown-grey hide. They’d been this close in the yoga class earlier, but there had been a sheen of ‘just follow the instructions,’ controlling the situation and keeping it from getting too personal. That filter was gone now, here in his apartment. 

The individual hairs were fine threads that he could see but barely feel as they slid over his fingers. It all sped off in a fluid mass, landing back on her shoulder. He quickly scooped at Shepard’s hair again, leaning toward it in fascination. She flinched as taloned fingers brushed her neck and he froze. They were closer than he would have come to another turian without invitation, as close as an embrace between friends, well within the arc of his cowl. Shepard’s hand gripped his wrist, mouth a tight line, green eyes hard. She’d flashed to a soldier in an instant, just as he would have. Neither of them moved.

Garrus took a deep, slow breath, eyes locked with Shepard’s. He breathed out almost like they had in class, relaxing his shoulders as much as he could. 

“You have a nice scent, Shepard.” Garrus wasn’t sure where that had come from, true as it was. A muscle twitched in Shepard’s neck, and she abruptly released his wrist and blew out a long breath of her own. 

“Damn it.” Shepard barked a short laugh and slumped against the backrest. Her hair ran across his fingers again, but she really hadn’t moved away from him.  _ Huh. She really does have a nice scent. Something floral like in Solona’s garden at home, but with an edge of gunmetal underneath.  _

“It’s my fault.” Garrus stood, taking their empty drink containers to the waste disposal. “I shouldn’t have let my curiosity get out of hand.” 

Shepard hadn’t moved by the time he returned to the couch, so Garrus halted, watching her.  _ They have good reason to be afraid of us. They’re vulnerable, if strong. We’re practically a predator from their oldest myths.  _ He rolled his shoulders, feeling the sore muscles in his back seize up a bit after sitting for so long.

“Come here. Sit back down, Vakarian.” Shepard half stood and grabbed Garrus’s arm when he hesitated again. She pulled him down onto the couch beside her, pushing at his right shoulder until he shifted his back to her. “It’s my fault your back is sore anyway.” She started prodding and massaging at the back of his cowl and shoulders in a way that was more entertaining than effective, but… not bad. 

“Instincts are strong, Shepard,” Garrus said quietly after a long moment. “Ours have been honed hard and sharp, more than average.”

“Yeah. Can’t turn that off.” She had found the edges of the larger plates across the backs of his shoulders and was working her fingers firmly in the flesh between. 

“Doesn’t work that way,” Garrus replied. “At best, you retrain your instincts. New parameters.”  _ Much like shifting from a combat posting to C-Sec. _

Shepard’s hands slowed on his back. “That’s damn insightful, Vakarian.” She resumed her attempted massage, working her way lower on his back. “Almost as though it’s personal experience.” 

“All turians are military trained, but I was posted on the  _ PFS Havincaw _ for 5 years. Saw a lot of combat.” Garrus shrugged, mandibles flaring into a grin. “Not that I need to tell an N7 what that’s like.” He glanced back over his shoulder and was surprised to see Shepard so close. She must have been kneeling on the couch, bright green eyes level with his. 

“I’ve fought a lot of merc gangs full of turians. Especially Blue Suns, recently.” Shepard’s hands continued down, pressing firmly into the plates of his back, actually making the sore muscles relax a fraction. “And I’ve been on the Citadel for a month. All of that and I still think you are the first turian I’ve ever seen really laugh. The only one I’ve really gotten to talk to on a more personal level.” 

Garrus gave a non-committal humm, a bright note of amusement in his  _ cantica.  _ “Would you believe that I was sent to that yoga class as a ‘community awareness’ assignment because I am still a complete rookie with cultures beyond Hierarchy territory?” 

Shepard burst into a laugh herself, one that sounded much more genuine to his ear than when he had first returned to the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I do believe it. We are both in the same boat, I think.” She shifted behind him, working her hands lower. Garrus flexed his back, stretching the muscles she’d been attempting to massage. Shepard took it as encouragement, sliding her hands firmly down along the plates of his spine, overtop the wide, padded waistband of his pants. 

Garrus groaned,  _ cantica _ rolling with a deep chord of pleasure as Shepard’s massage reached his lower back, only lightly plated, fading to nearly none around the curve of his waist. "Urgh… ahh, no." He stood up abruptly, freeing himself from her strong, clever hands and clearing his throat roughly.  _ Not sure I wanted her to stop, but… _ He halted beside a large framed print of Palaven’s Argent mountain range, near his home.

"Sorry!" Shepard coiled one leg in against her body on the couch, turning to follow him as he paced away. “Does that mean turians are ticklish or did I do something wrong?"

"My feet are ticklish." Garrus chuffed a self-conscious laugh, trying in vain to stop his body's reaction to her touch. "A turian's waist is sensitive in much more intimate ways." 

"Mmm, good to know." Shepard flashed him a grin that showed her teeth. "I didn't mean to do that, but if you're interested in more we can talk about it." 

Garrus's mandibles went slack in surprise.  _ Does she mean what I think she does? After that incident with her neck?  _ "Just to be clear, you mean easing tension, releasing stress, blowing off steam, enjoying the varied pleasures of physical contact?"  _ Maybe I didn't imagine her flirting with me in class. _

"I don't know what turians call it, but I call it casual sex for sensible reasons. Have you ever thought about 'releasing tension' with someone like me? A human?" Shepard took a drink of her nearly empty beer, giving him a moment to process her question. 

"Today? Or on an average day?"  _ I know the Alliance and Hierarchy don't have the same views on liaisons with other soldiers. But if that's actually an invitation…  _

"I see…" Shepard ran her gaze down his body with obvious interest. "And if I told you I find you attractive, as well as an interesting person to have really random conversations with?" 

"I'd ask if the Alliance tests for chriality allergies." Garrus cringed inwardly.  _ Blatant, but a fair question. _

"Yeah, we do. I'm not allergic." She walked over to where he stood, looking up into his face with those intensely green eyes. "And that says you  _ were _ enjoying the view earlier! I thought that was more than a little interest I saw!" Shepard laughed, eyes shining. 

“I’m fairly confident what you are suggesting is not as simple as if we were both turians...or both humans.” She was standing close enough that her scent filtered up to him again.  _ Gunmetal and lonicera flowers... _

"There are easy lubricant options, I promise. It's not as difficult as people think."

Garrus flicked one mandible out, amused at her quick response. “Are you speaking from experience?”  _ Maybe she met with turians in less talkative circumstances because it was just for sex. _

“No, not personal experience. A friend.” Shepard called up her omni-tool display and tapped out a few quick commands, striding back to her jacket. She folded it open to reveal a small omni-fabricator in an inside pocket, dispensing a clear fluid onto her fingers. “Weapons lubricant. Completely neutral silicone oil.” She returned to him, hand extended pragmatically. 

“Hmm.” Garrus hesitantly touched Shepard’s fingers, rubbing the slickness between his own. A very familiar slickness, but still…  _ Better to have something I know is safe.  _ He searched her eyes for a moment, still wondering if she was serious. It would have been a straightforward question with another turian, but he was so far off the map it was if he had a star chart for the wrong galaxy. “Hmmmm…” He strode across to his workbench at the side of the room, picking up a slightly worn but labeled tube of his own. He handed it over to Shepard silently. They both paused as the short text list of ingredients ran through her translator. She nodded, opening the tube and sniffing the contents. 

"Same thing, basically." Shepard dropped the capped tube on the table and tilted her head to look up at him. "Look, both of our lives are crazy." She shrugged, hair sliding distractingly over her bare shoulder. "I'm interested in seeing what we can do to have a good time tonight. No obligations, and we can stop at any time. I've browsed enough  _ Fornax  _ to know that we have… generally compatible anatomy, Vakarian.” 

"If we can find a way to make it work…" Garrus turned to stare across the room, thinking through the possibilities.  _ Shepard is more interesting than any other human I’ve met.  _ The insistent arousal swelling behind his slit made it abundantly clear he was physically interested.  _ Why the hell not?  _ He tilted his head down, meeting Shepard’s eyes squarely. "Then yeah. Definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it was another tease! This Shepard and Garrus getting to know each other got away from me with entertaining banter and it's 3 AM but the last chapter will fill the "make it smutty" requests I promise.


	4. An Educational Evening *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Note the upgraded rating to E, because how can I not explicitly describe body parts & positions in a yoga AU? ;-)_

“Can I make a suggestion for where to start?” Shepard asked. “Besides somewhere comfortable?” 

“Less clothing and firearms?” Garrus flicked out a wry grin and started unbuckling his shirt. 

“That can be step 2.” Shepard backed toward the couch with confidently swaying steps, red pants and bare feet drawing all of his attention. 

“No weapons is definitely step 1, Shepard.” A steel edge of command resonated in Garrus’s voice. Shepard stopped, eyeing him with what he thought might be approval. _Definitely a commander._

“I see we’re both in charge here, Vakarian… Good.” She nodded sharply. “I like that much better when it comes to sex than to troops.” She waved her empty can toward her jacket and pistol. “Where are we putting them?” 

He nodded toward the wall by his workbench, where various hooks and pegs had been driven into the wall, mostly occupied with tools. 

“And your ‘step 1’ Shepard?” Garrus asked, shirt hanging open as they each hung holsters on the wall. He tugged free a short ceramic knife from a concealed sheath across his stomach, dropping it on the workbench.

“Setting boundaries,” she called over her shoulder. “So rule #1 is easy.” 

“It sounds like you have more rules in mind…” _What have I gotten myself into? I never should have agreed to this without any research._

Shepard stripped off her shirt in a smooth, undulating gesture, dropped it on the edge of the couch, and sat down. “Changed your mind?” She asked when he remained standing. 

Garrus focused on her intently. “Let’s hear your rules first.” _Is she this confident about everything!? And Pallin thinks I’m too aggressive… he wouldn’t even know where to start with her._

"Do NOT bite me.” _Simple enough._ “And nothing goes inside anyone," Shepard emphatically gestured between the two of them, "without asking, understood?" 

“Is that all?” A deep hum of respect hit his _cantica_ when she nodded. _Sets rules like a turian. I like that. Less room for me to mess this up._ “For a moment I expected a pre-recorded list,” Garrus added as he finished removing his shirt and sat down. 

Shepard was wearing a tight black garment across the curve of her chest that had been under her shirt. She curled her legs up in a too-small space to sit facing him on the couch, pressed against his thigh. Garrus traced a curious hand up her bare arm, hesitating when she stiffened as he reached her neck. 

"I promise not to harm you intentionally." He flicked one mandible out in a chagrined smile, sliding his open palm back down the length of her arm. _Are those tiny hairs?_ "Or accidentally, if I can help it. On my honor as a turian." 

"Same for me. What about you?” Shepard asked, tracing her fingers between the small plates covering the back of his hand. “What are your rules for me, Vakarian?”

"I'm not sure what you're going to try to do yet.” _No plan, no research, no expectations. At least we have rules...even spontaneous ones._

"What would be… inappropriate between casual partners? For turians?” She shifted closer to Garrus, within the arc of his arm resting on the curved back of the couch. “Something that might be good, but requires a lot of familiarity or trust."

"Touching my fringe. Especially underneath." Garrus gestured up the back of his arched neck in clarification. "Keep that off limits."

"But your neck and… cowl? This is okay?" She slid a hand along the inside of his cowl when he nodded, fingers dipping and rising with the curved edges of broad, thin plates. "Your plates here feel amazing. A lot more textured than I thought. Softer too." 

As much as he wanted to touch her hair again, he dropped both hands to Shepard’s waist instead. The curve was much shallower, less pronounced than on a typical turian. _Smooth and soft, but she feels like solid muscle._ Lust rumbled back into his _cantica_ , swelling with his hidden cock. 

Arousal and curiosity twined within him, a willing body with a sniper’s focus. They both openly roamed each other’s bodies with their hands, discovering breasts and keelbone, curves and plates, the crisp line of bones just below her throat. Garrus brushed those lines with the backs of his fingers, and Shepard let out a groan that seemed half pleasure, half irritation. She tensed any time his talons came near her throat or face, lips pressing together in frustration every time. 

“Damn it, I can’t help it,” Shepard sighed and glared at his taloned hand as if she’d shot it and it refused to die. “It’s fine, I’ll get over it.”

“Here. Put your hand on my neck,” Garrus’s voice was a quiet rumble. _She’s the one pushing this, not me. Black night she has beautiful lines._ He wanted to touch her more, run his hands down her back, feel the strange, soft strands of her hair. However… it was becoming a point of honor that they move past this issue before doing anything else. Every flinch made him question if she was enjoying the moment or just tolerating it.

“It isn’t the same Vakarian, it’s just out of my control.” Shepard sighed as Garrus took her right wrist anway, sliding her hand up his neck to the bare hide underneath his mandibles. 

A faint tremor ran through him as he pressed her fingers to the right spot, smooth bare hide over the arteries of his neck. _This is not a good idea._ He was breathing faster than she was now, trying hard not to pull her hand away immediately, pulse racing underneath her fingers. “Do you feel that?” 

“Yeah…” Shepard’s eyes were wide, lips parted. “Gods Vakarian, you don’t need to do this. I’ll be fine.” 

The high warble of discomfort in his _cantica_ flared louder as she tried to pull away, fingers pressing harder against his throat. “It _is_ about control, Shepard.” He held out his right hand to her. “It’s my choice. Your choice.” _Crazy choices._

Eyes still wide, Shepard took his hand with a determined confidence. Garrus left his hand limp until she placed it on her neck, fingers curling loosely to cradle her spine, thumb touching the underside of her jaw. Her small, tan hand pinned his larger one against her skin. The muscles of her neck tensed and relaxed under his palm, even shifting enough to drag his talons lightly across her skin. Her face was still a war of emotions he didn’t know how to recognize, couldn’t hear, and could only guess at. 

A high whine of need sounded into his _cantica_ , not a note of it sexual. _Night, why does it matter so damn much? Please just… just trust me Shepard. Just try. Spirits, this is far too intimate. Black damn night she is NOT someone I know and trust. She’s not!_ His pulse still racing, Garrus traced the pad of his thumb uncertainly along Shepard’s jaw, somehow soft but just as stubborn as his own. He loosed the hand on his own throat, slowly sliding the length of her arm, tracing the curve of her shoulder, down the muscled line of her back. Just breathing in the sight of her, here with him. Human. So unfamiliar and yet...

Shepard drew in a long breath, eyes still locked on his. She shifted her hand from his neck, trailing her fingers down the lines of his mandible slowly, fingertips curling under the inner edge toward his teeth. Garrus groaned softly, closing his eyes for a breath of raw bliss. _So good. So damn intimate. I don’t care._ Her fingers startled to a stop but blessedly didn’t leave. He cracked opened his eyes to a smiling Shepard, a warm laugh bubbling out that rolled through her whole body and set his _cantica_ to singing in harmony. 

“No fear in that laugh,” Garrus murmured, one hand firmly stroking the curve of Shepard’s waist.

“You’re the one that’s fearless, Vakarian.” Shepard squeezed his hand and slid hers up to the front of his cowl. “And it’s hard to be afraid of someone who’s purring at my touch like a kitten.” Her smile was lopsided in apparent amusement, one faintly dotted cheek higher than the other, and she stroked the edge of his mandible again.

“If ‘tiny predatory felines’ receive this much attention, then I can be one,” Garrus rumbled, _cantica_ flooding with Shepard’s joy and his own overwhelming desire for… everything. He slid both hands down her back, nudging her closer. 

“Hmm, kitten or tiger - yet to be determined,” Shepard teased. Then her mouth was pressed against the top of his keel, soft and cool, leaving a trail of heating hide behind as she worked her way down his chest. His arousal was rapidly tightening behind his slit, her hand sliding to massage his waist. 

Shepard’s red hair taunted him, looking down on the top of her head. Fluid curves swept across the line of her spine. Gently, Garrus caressed one hand up Shepard’s back, curving his long fingers into her hair. _So smooth, so alive._ Some of her hair fell forward against his chest, brushing whisper soft against his plates. The black garment interrupted his other hand sliding down her back, a tiny growling reminder that they were still partially dressed. He scooped down over the red-covered rear he had watched off and on for an hour in the class, her curves filling his hand. 

“Mmmmm,” Shepard hummed against his keelbone, adding to the vibrations of his _cantica._

“I think this clothing can leave soon.” Garrus tugged at her pants, pulling the stretchy fabric away from the smooth back of Shepard’s thigh.

“Not yet,” Shepard ran her hand from teasing along his mandible down his chest, meeting the other at the edge of his waistband. Curling her fingers underneath the fabric, she leaned back away from him, back arched like on the floor in class. _I want her hips on mine when she does that._ “Any suggestions for comfortable positions with me in your lap? You know I’m at least a little flexible.” The tease on the last two words was clear, prompting him to act impulsively.

He dropped both hands to Shepard’s rear and lifted her easily, swinging his right leg up onto the couch beneath her. Shifting so the arm of the couch was behind him, Garrus leaned back and settled Shepard so she was straddling his raised thigh. She gasped, hands never leaving his waist.

“Seem like a good start?” Garrus asked.

“Oh yeah.” Shepard’s voice had taken on a husky tone, a little rough and breathy, as she spread her thighs. 

Garrus shifted the angle of his leg slightly and Shepard groaned, leaning toward him. “You’re enjoying that more than I would have expected,” he murmured. 

“Mmm.” Shepard rocked her hips in his hands, knuckles pressed into his hide, sliding around his waistband. “Hard things between my thighs is always a good start, Vakarian.” 

Vague lessons on human anatomy filtered to the front of Garrus’s mind. “Hmm, that’s right. A human woman’s slit is deeper between your thighs, not in front.” He slid one hand down from her waist, smoothing his palm low across her stomach. Shepard leaned into the touch with a pleased sound, but firm curves were all he felt. 

“Mhmm.” Shepard nodded, then flattened her hand over the bulge of his slit, “It’s here on all turians, right?” She pressed lightly against him, short fingers sliding down over the thin plates lining the opening. Even through the padded fabric of his pants her touch sent shivers of pleasure through his groin. _I want more, so much more. So does she, it seems._

Garrus nodded, keeping his chin tilted down to watch Shepard’s hips and hands. She shifted her hips with the motion of her hand on his slit, rocking against his thigh, knees pressing into the couch. She licked her lips as he smoothed his hand across her stomach again, sliding his fingers under the stretchy waistband of her red pants. The desire in his _cantica_ was strong enough to vibrate his keelbone, rolling down into the top of his slit and heightening his arousal further. He added to the rhythm of her hips, curving one hand under her rear, deepening the motion. Shepard gasped, mouth open in a soft arc as a deeper thrust of her hips pressed her against the long line of muscles running up the top of his thigh into the joint of his hip. _Hmm… that seems noteworthy._ She ran one hand up to his chest, thumb brushing along the edge of his keelbone, letting more of her weight rest against that splayed hand while the other continued caressing the area around and over his slit.

“Vakarian, this feels…” Shepard’s eyes fell closed with a soft groan as he curved her hips in a perfect match of what she’d done a moment before. Her chest rose and fell noticeably, breaths coming faster, cheeks flushing to a pinker color, back arching beautifully. “Damn. Good. Really good.” Her hips rolled in his grip again.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do, Shepard?” Garrus’s voice rumbled out in husky tones, a deep rumble of desire and confidence. 

“Yes…” Shepard’s green eyes were open again, fierce and full of want. Desire. Need. “Tell me.” She continued thrusting against his thigh, back curving and straightening rhythmically. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me.” _Night, that’s sexy._ Garrus curved one hand around the arc of her waist, deliberately slowing her pace, holding her still at the deepest point in the movement.

“I’m going to take you to a crest right here.” He flexed the thigh between her legs and she shuddered, twisting her hips against him. “Here in my hands.” He slowly rocked her against his thigh, letting her move and set a new pace. “I’m going to watch you come to pieces in an arch against my thigh.” Shepard just moaned and leaned into him as she thrust. 

Satisfaction flared into his _cantica,_ deep and quick, as her fingers curled into his waistband again, knuckles to his skin. She was focused on herself, smouldering gaze and strong body dragging him into the deeps with her.

Shepard’s feet found the back of his lower legs as she sought pleasure in his hands. She curved her small, awkward feet against him, bracing herself with those tiny toes pressed along the jutting base of his spurs. Garrus shivered at the intimacy of her legs wrapped around his. _We shouldn’t be… haven’t been this close with anyone since… 5 years? Ohh Spirits, her legs…_ His own breathing was pacing toward hers.

Shepard gasped, a tense bow, movements threatening to become erratic. Garrus kept her rhythm, smooth, quick, tight against him, until she moaned into a deep arch of pleasure, head falling back to bare her neck as she crested. Garrus groaned, mandibles slack with pleasure as he watched her. Sweating lightly, breathing hard, Shepard twisted gently in his hands and shivered again. _More than half clothed still and my slit’s wide open for her._ He traced one hand up from her hip and over her shoulders, fingers light on the back of Shepard’s neck, flame-colored hair spilling over his hand. 

She flexed her feet against his legs again, laughing softly. _Pleasure… no fear. So damn good._ Her thighs gripped his, the feel of her legs reminding him of her body stretched along his during the yoga class. Garrus moved his hand from Shepard’s rear to her thigh, curving down to the couch between his legs, red pants a stark contrast to the dark grey fabric. His arousal tented his own pants outward toward her.

“Think we can continue this with less clothing?” Garrus asked. It wasn’t that he was normally opposed to a quick mostly-clothed bout of sex to release tension, but if he had a choice… 

Shepard stripped her chestband off in one fluid movement and tugged a tie out of her hair by way of answer. She pushed lightly off his chest to stand, peeling the red fabric down her legs before Garrus even stood from the couch. He chuffed a laugh and undid ties at his waist and spurs, amusement fluttering into his _cantica,_ high and light over the deeper chords of lust and pleasure. She tossed both garments to the arm of the couch as he stood, folding down the wide waistband of his loose pants and letting them drop to the floor. _Apparently neither of us was wearing undershorts._

“Mmmm…” Shepard rested a hand on one hip, looking him over with what seemed like appreciative sounds of interest. His cock arched boldly out from his slit, a deep Palaven blue against the brown-grey of his hide and plates. He had a few small plates edging the top and bottom of his slit too, not just along the sides.

His eyes roamed her body as well, lingering on the way her hair brushed her bare neck and the sweep of short hair between her legs. Her breasts were probably average, smooth mounds with taut pinkish-brown nipples, but he found them no more interesting on her than on asari. _Although they do accentuate the curve of her waist now that they’re unbound…_

Garrus stepped toward Shepard, hungry to continue, hungry to touch her again. She sidestepped so they both stood beside the couch, hands landing on either side of his slit. He curved one hand over the curve of her hip, the other on her shoulder, thumb sliding along her collar bone.

“Easy there big guy.” Shepard halted him, head tilted enticingly to one side. “I have an idea that should work for you.” She slid both hands firmly out around his waist, deepening the growl of lust filling his _cantica,_ then slid one hand back toward his cock. “Can I touch you, Vakarian?” She slid her thumb up the edge of his slit, flicking her eyes down as if the question wasn’t clear. 

“Yes.” No hesitation, an edge of command. “Touch me, Shepard.”

Shepard held his eyes and swept her right hand to curl around his cock. Smooth fingertips curled over the tight triangle of his tip as she stroked upward. Garrus suppressed a shiver at the strange touch. His body expected the firm ridge of a talon rimming the edge of his slit on the downward stroke. Instead, Shepard rubbed her thumb sideways over the curve of his shaft, fingers curling around. She traced back and forth along each of the four narrow, slender plates of the underside of his cock, lips parted in a half smile again. Garrus groaned, sweeping his thumb across her collar bone in long, smooth strokes matching her own on his cock. 

“Spirits, that feels different. Good--” he added quickly, as Shepard paused, “just very different. You have incredible hands.” 

That drew a soft laugh, deep and warm. “They have an amazing body to work with,” Shepard murmured, leaning back to scan down his body again. “But this is only half of what I was planning.” This time her grin was almost too familiar… a predator who’s caught their prey.

She tugged Garrus toward the couch with the hand on his waist, narrow fingers pressing into the sensitive skin. Pleasure raced into him with each touch, each breath coming faster than the one before, bare talons digging into the rubberized floor of his apartment. _I want to bury my teeth in the curve of her neck and fuck her until we both melt. Black night that’s not---_ He locked down those thoughts with a growl, though the desire to take control of the situation barely faded. That didn’t change with what Shepard asked next.

Shepard knelt on the couch, now slightly taller than on the floor, and she leaned in to press her mouth against his keel, just below the curve of his cowl. Garrus groaned, thrusting his hips into her hand, tip brushing the smooth skin of her stomach. She continued, soft lips and cool breath moving continually downward along the hard, smooth ridge. He stroked both hands along the lines of her back, the feel of various minor scars - and a large one twisting across the back of one shoulder - grounding him. 

“Can I put my mouth on you?” Shepard asked as she worked her way down his keel. 

“What?” The question didn’t make sense. Her mouth was already pressed against him. 

“My mouth. Is it okay if I use my mouth on you?” Shepard stroked her thumb over the tip of his cock, glancing down at it in emphasis. 

Garrus stepped back instantly, hands shifting to hold Shepard at arm’s length. For her part, Shepard let loose of her hold on him and knelt with her hands open in front of her body. Surprise and wariness were clear in her expression, even to him. 

“What?! No! That’s not--” Garrus shuddered, locking down the note of fear threatening to sound out. _The stuff of insane night terrors, the thought of someone’s teeth tearing into your cock._ “Why would you suggest that?” 

“Because it's very common among humans, Vakarian,” Shepard replied evenly. “Do turians not use their mouths and tongues on each other like that?” 

“Tongue, yes. Mouth…” He shook his head firmly. “No. Consider that one of my rules or we’re done now.” 

“Alright.” Shepard pointed at the tube of weapons lubricant on the table. “I think we need the lube then, either for my hand or for somewhere else.” 

He gave her a probing look, then stepped away to get the tube. “It isn’t about fear. Or control. It just isn’t done.” _Just move on. Think about it later, not now._

“You don’t have to explain, Vakarian,” Shepard added. “Just like I don’t have to justify ‘no biting’ even though I know it’s often part of sex for turians. So walk those sexy legs back over here and let’s try again.” She had her hands on her hips when he glanced back, and she beckoned for the lube. 

Thankfully, he was only mildly less aroused than before, at least physically. He handed Shepard the lubricant, stepping close enough to run his hand up and down her back. _It’s already a bit arousing that she immediately suggested the weapons lubricant… we can do this._ She slicked the underside of his cock with a generously oiled hand, and his mandibles flared into a lust-filled groan. 

“Much better,” Garrus breathed. 

Shepard stroked the full length of his shaft with a light grip, sliding with a slow, smooth rhythm that quickly had him matching her touch with his own on her back and rear. Her fingers glided over his tip, which tightened more with each stroke, arousal racing back into his body. It was good, but it felt one-sided. He wanted to do more. Wanted to touch her more, bring her along with him, and his hands on her back were not enough. With another turian, one of them would have been pressed back against a wall by now, cocks or tongues in slits, _canticas_ ringing with each other’s pleasure, talons and teeth involved to varying degrees. _Want to nuzzle against the curve of her throat, feel her breath on my neck, hot and heavy, thick with pleasure._ She wasn’t going to let him do that, but he still wanted something more. A quick _primo_ in her hand was more interesting than thrusting into his own, but still…

Garrus leaned toward Shepard, pinning her hand on his cock between their stomachs and letting out a deep breath. Shepard breathed in sharply, hand stilling, squeezing his waist briefly instead. “Any objection to me lifting your legs up like in the yoga class earlier?” Garrus asked, both voices rough with lust. 

“What do you want to do like that?” Shepard hesitated, breath almost normal. _Maybe she was frustrated too._

“Can I thrust between your thighs? I’m not asking to slide into your slit,” Garrus added quickly. “But I do think we will both enjoy this.” He traced a knuckle down the center of her stomach, trailing into the flame-colored hair between her thighs. Shepard’s lips parted at his touch. 

“Maybe…” Her hand twisted slowly around his shaft, pinned between their bodies.

“Do you want my tip here, Shepard?” Garrus dipped his knuckle deeper, pressing against the very top of her slit by touch. He could smell her, feel a slickness against his knuckle. Shepard breathed in deeply, leaning forward and pressing his knuckle incrementally deeper. She seemed to like it when he described what he was going to do. “Your thighs against my chest, legs around my cock instead of my thigh…"

“I’m not going to do hanging sit ups while you fuck me Vakarian," Shepard snapped breathlessly, "but I want this weapon of yours well-lubricated and between my legs before you say another word!" 

Shepard's hands flew to Garrus's chest as he smoothly flipped her onto the couch, one hand curved underneath her bare ass. She took it with a laugh and a wide grin, settling into a comfortable position on her back. He swiped the lube from the table, adding a fresh sheen of oil to his 'weapon'. He had to admit, using his gun lubricant for pleasure was really arousing. _Like a late night contact after a battle, the scent of oil and scorched metal on both your hides._

"Do you want more, on your legs?" He extended the tube toward her, unsure if she'd want him to do it or not. She took it, one leg draped off the seat of the couch, spreading a small amount across the inside of each thigh, palms already slick from his cock. 

"Thought I gave you an order, Vakarian," Shepard murmured, one eyebrow raised. 

_So she wants to be in charge again…_ Her legs were spread casually, the scent and sight of her stoking his desire. In one fluid movement Garrus caught Shepard’s left ankle, knelt behind her hips on the couch, and lifted. She gasped, hands flying to land on his thighs as he swung her left foot up to rest just inside the curve of his cowl. They were both breathing quickly, her green eyes wide and intense, fingers pressing into his plates as he let her weight settle along his thigh. Garrus shifted forward, pressing the base of his slit - and the thick curve of his cock - against Shepard’s wet slit. His blood was racing, his _cantica_ a constant rumble. 

Her right ankle was in his hand, sharp curves and steel cables and tiny impotent toes. Pleasure pooled in his groin as he closed his right hand around both of her ankles, pressing his cock between the soft, plateless hide of Shepard’s thighs. She bowed her back, slender fingers and smooth palms against his hide. Flame-colored hair flared over the dark grey fabric, lips parted, shoulders pushing into the couch, ass pressed arousingly against his hips, just as when she’d shown off in the class. _Spirits the arch of her back…_

His talons scraped roughly against fabric as he wedged his foot between the couch cushions and began to thrust. They both groaned as his oiled shaft pressed against her, soft slit spreading to curve over the underside of his cock. Calloused hide gripped her right hip as his hips set a rapid rhythm. Hide slapped against skin, warm, appreciative sounds melted from Shepard’s parted lips, and Garrus’s _cantica_ roiled wildly. Each thrust pulsed through his body, broad tip aching every time it parted Shepard’s thighs, slick with rifle oil. _So damn good._ He was close.

“Mmmm,” Shepard hummed warmly, biting her lower lip. “Show me what you’ve got, Vakarian.”

Garrus’s rough breaths was his only reply but… _Spirits, I can’t finish like this, I’ll be all over her body…_ His _cantica_ hitched at the thought. Then Shepard curved one hand around his tip as it slid out again, so he was thrusting along her palm. Pleasure raced through him, waves that stuttered his hips and hazed his mind. His voices growled deep in his chest, rough and primal as his seed sprayed onto Shepard’s hand and stomach. His body was tight, aching with sweet release, the only points of reality his cock and her ankles, snug in his hand. 

His mind cleared slowly, deep breaths from slack mandibles. Slender bones pressed against his mouthplates, so he nuzzled Shepard’s ankles again. _When did I start doing...? Damn, I needed this. Never imagined it would be so good with…_ Garrus looked down at Shepard, gaze gliding over her strong body, still curved and arched along his own, smooth skin dimpling under the talons gripping her hip, chest rising and falling rhythmically, smouldering green eyes watching him. 

“You are impossibly flexible,” Garrus murmured. “And lovely.” _Well. Huh._ He never knew what to say right after sex and that wasn’t the strangest that he’d ever said. 

Emotions flickered across Shepard’s face, too complicated for his vain attempt to follow, and her mouth curved into a slow smile. She wiped her hand across a clear space on her stomach, his silvery seed glistening in scattered spurts on her skin. 

“And you are an absolute powerhouse to watch, and to be with.” Shepard’s warm, low voice seemed almost playful, but he saw something raw and passionate in the way her green eyes held his. “I think I regret _not_ having you inside me, now. Missed opportunity.” 

Garrus loosened his hold on Shepard’s hip as he considered her words, carefully smoothing his hand over the reddened - but unbroken - skin. The same color was high in her face and neck, flushed from their efforts. His _cantica_ was a low chord of satisfaction, pleasure, and desire still rumbling through his chest. _If she wants to… we’ve already gone this far._

“Is that a request, Shepard?” Garrus asked, loosing her ankles and sliding his cock deliberately along her slit as he lowered her back to the couch. Shepard blinked, tilted her head to the side, then fastened her gaze on the firm, blue, line of his cock, curving between her thighs. 

“Mmmm… Yeah.” A smile slowly curved onto her lips. She wiggled her hips, rubbing her left leg along his thigh. He couldn’t help it, he stroked her leg, bare palm pressed flat to her skin, stoking the fire in his groin.

“You remember I’ve never done this before?” _At least I know they don’t have teeth inside… or anything really dangerous._

“Neither have I, Vakarian,” Shepard replied saucily. She reached out with one slim finger, placing it at the base of his shaft, sliding slowly upward. “We've made it this far."

 _Night, I want this. But I won't keep shooting in the dark._ “… A bit of calibration guidance?" He winced inwardly at being so blunt again, but it seemed to work with Shepard. 

"Well…" Her neck flushed toward the color of her hair. "Slide in slowly, for starters. You're bigger than most humans. I'm not actually sure I can take the whole length of you." Shepard twisted to stand on the couch, which put their hips close to level. 

"Are you sure?" Garrus asked, quashing a sudden flare of nervousness. _She has to be nervous too. At least a little. I don't want to hurt her._

“Yeah. I’ll say something if it’s bad,” Shepard was quick to reply. “And please don’t finish inside me. In case… well. In case that needs to be said.” The tall back of the couch curved away sharply behind her rear and she leaned back, beckoning him closer with both hands. Her eyes kept roaming over his body hungrily, flicking back up to his face. 

“Alright.” Garrus nodded sharply.

He continued mauling the couch by stepping one foot up, right knee bent deeply and nudging between Shepard’s legs. Her teeth flashed in a quick grin, then she swung her leg smoothly up over the arched bones of his left hip, landing her thigh in his hand and her leg snugly around his waist. _Oh, Spirits…_ He groaned with pleasure, leaning in closer and catching Shepard’s waist with the other hand. It took no small amount of fidgeting, more weapons lube, and Shepard parting the fleshy, vulnerable-looking folds of her slit with her fingers, but eventually he slid inside her. 

Constant, rolling chords of pleasure and lust filled his _cantica_ as he began to thrust, slow and shallow. She was wet, cooler than he expected, and sheathing his cock tightly. One hand on his chest was constant encouragement, trailing up and down his plates with each thrust. Shepard’s other hand massaged the curve of her chest, fondling the nipple until it was a tight nub between her fingers. 

“That’s good, Vakarian. Ohhh, I swear it’s good,” Shepard moaned. 

Garrus’s grip on the curve of her hip tightened, but he slid his right hand up along her waist and ribs, feeling her panting breaths and tight muscles, flexing just under her skin. He was enthralled with the sensations of her body fitted to his, _cantica_ rumbling wildly down his keel with a dozen emotions. He suddenly slid deeper on the next thrust, as Shepard braced against the couch and lifted her other leg to wrap around his waist as well. 

“Ohhhh, fuck...” Shepard let her head fall back, thighs on either side of his waist, pale red hairs curling against the plates edging his slit. 

They both stilled, shifting hips only slightly. He could _feel_ her stretching around his cock, feel her inner walls pressed against his shaft, pulsing and making him shiver as pleasure built. 

“I’m going to…” They both groaned as he slid almost completely out of her. Shepard tightened her legs against his back, and Garrus leaned back in, watching his long, steel-blue cock filling her, spreading her until she gasped. Then he sunk even deeper, pressing the peaked edge of his own slit against Shepard’s folds.

“Yes, ohh yes,” Shepard panted, neck wantonly bared before him. “Do that again, if you can.” 

Garrus’s hungry sniper’s eyes devoured her pale neck with its tiny spots of color, the long, sharp lines of her jaw and collar bones, all untouchable and driving him wild. He thrust into her, smooth and hard, plunging in to hilt himself against her slit each time. Shepard joined him, rear lifting from the couch to meet his hips, bodies joining with soft grunts and panting breaths. His waist was on fire, sensitized to every tight squeeze of her legs. Each thrust built his pleasure, feeling her pulsing with him, chasing their need with each breath. 

His own slit was slick and wet from sliding against Shepard, soft slaps of their flesh punctuating the deep, pulsing chords of hot desire that echoed through his apartment. His mandibles fluctuated from slack with pleasure to tight against his jaw, intensely focused. _Night, the neighbors can probably---_

Shepard arched beneath him hard, holding him deep with legs tight over his hips. Her fingertips scraped his plates, nipple still pinched between two fingers, lips open in a sharp cry of ecstasy. She continued moaning softly with each thrust, but the rhythm was all his own now. 

Shepard pulled her lower lip between her teeth with a decadent groan. He wanted to do the same, to close his mouth over her shoulder as she crested, to taste her mouth, her skin. To slide talons through her hair, to feel her breath on his neck with every thrust. _Those fingers on the back of my neck…_ He could feel his cock tightening, each thrust bringing him nearly to the edge.

Garrus pulled out of Shepard swiftly, wringing another deep groan from her body. Her folds felt slick against his base as he rutted against her, pumping his shaft with short, sure strokes, eyes transfixed on her throat, languidly bared, desperately wanted, completely untouchable. Legs tightened on his waist, soft bare hide, and his _cantica_ roared, cock pulsing in his grip, pleasure finally raking his body in a wave, spraying seed and sound and a flash of oblivion… 

They both trembled, soft moans and growls of aftershocks tingling their skin. Hot breath, panting through flared mandibles, fluttering, lost in sensation. His talons dimpled the muscles of her shoulder, arching dark grey along her pale, tanned neck. _When did I…?_ He could feel her feet linked in the curve of his back, the smooth press of her slit against him with each deep breath. Fingertips pressed between the plates on his left arm, long, slow strokes.

Shepard hummed a deep, satisfied sound. She lifted her head from the curve of the couch, deep sea green eyes meeting his, flame colored hair disheveled and brushing his hand, curled over her shoulder. They both just breathed for a long moment, intimately satisfied and yet… uncertain. 

"I… don't have words right now." Garrus broke the silence, chuffing a soft laugh that sent yet another fading ripple through his groin. 

The woman - the very _human_ woman - in his hold drew in a long, slow breath, gently arching and twisting as she did. Shepard's legs tightened on his waist briefly, flashing pleasure so sharp it was almost pain through the over-sensitive muscles. Mandibles flicked closer to his jaw, but sluggishly, and he groaned softly at the deep chords of satisfaction blazing embarrassingly loud through his _cantica_ . Shepard could certainly _feel_ that, regardless of whether she could hear it or know what it meant. 

"Do turians have showers?" Shepard asked, blinking lazily, hands smoothing over his forearms again. 

A few minutes later, Garrus's mind was blessedly clearer after having found the extra towel (he only had two), explained why there was sand on the floor of the shower (a thorough scrub was far better than a shower most of the time), and adjusted the temperature down to something he considered barely warm. He let Shepard shower first. _The image of her on my hips, scattered from slit to throat with my seed… Spirits, I'm going to remember that forever._

They were both quiet, and she was dressed and tying back her fascinating hair when he finished toweling off after a quick - and much hotter - shower. He was unsure what to expect. They'd said no obligations, stress relief, casual sex, and he had mentally classified it as the newest of several 'contacts' he'd been with over the years, just a different species and a new set of rules. Then the night had gotten more intense than a batarian pirate raid, except with sex that was _not quite_ the best he had ever had, and more physical intimacy than he’d shared with anyone besides Ranni, nearly 5 years ago. _The fact that I'm comparing this to the best, or her to Ranni, is a disturbing thought._

“It’s been a good night, Vakarian.” Shepard leaned her rear against the arm of the couch, smiling up at him with those sharp green eyes. She’d quieted the playful, alluring commander, leaving just the remarkably open-minded N7 soldier he’d invited over on a whim. 

“Definitely. Never would have expected it.” Garrus flared his mandibles in easy amusement. “Not a night I’ll forget, Shepard.” Her smile deepened a little, one eyebrow flicking up briefly. 

“I’ll take that as a well-earned compliment.” She folded her arms across her chest, crossing her ankles above bare feet. “Are you the type that’s going to make this night the talk of C-Sec’s water cooler?” Shepard asked bluntly. 

“What? No.” Annoyed distress whined into his _cantica_ in a flash. “This is personal, something we both needed-- wanted-- Spirits, I don’t know.” He paced toward her a step, still naked. “You’re worth bragging about, but this isn’t exactly…” He waved a long-fingered hand vaguely in the air, then paused. “Wait, did you want me to say yes? To brag about the sexy, flexible N7 I had sex with?” 

Shepard’s expression was unfamiliar, half smile, tilted head, furrowed forehead-- and then she burst out in a laugh, shaking her head with a grin. She stepped to him and dropped an easy hand on his upper arm. 

“You too, are worth bragging about, though not for that ‘speech’ you just made. I like my personal business to stay mine. The Alliance and Citadel know enough about my life already.” Shepard patted his arm, then tapped at the slim omni-tool on her wrist. “Here’s my info if you want to stay in touch.” 

Garrus’s omni tool pinged with Shepard's message as she gathered her jacket and holstered pistol from his workbench, and he followed, talons clicking metallically against the remainder of her beer cans as he picked them up. “I do, Shepard.” She gave him an odd look as she shrugged into her holster. “Want to keep in touch,” Garrus continued, chuffing a laugh at his own awkwardness. “Never know when it might be good to know an Alliance N7.” 

“Or a C-Sec detective,” Shepard retorted with a wink, sending a warm chord of contentment into his _cantica._ She slid her feet into slim boots that zipped snugly over her ankles and took her drinks, turning toward the door. 

“On the Citadel, you never know what the next assignment might bring,” Garrus opened his apartment door for her and she stepped out into the hallway.

Shepard turned back before he closed the door, walking backward for a few lithe strides.

“Hey, Vakarian?” She called out.

“Yeah?”

“Nice weapons.” She winked, tail of flame-colored hair swinging as she turned away with another sly grin.

Cocky pride flared sharp and strident in his _cantica_ , drawing an amused warble from his turian neighbor walking down the hall. _Night, this has been one educational evening._


End file.
